Scars
by Dark Ice Dragon
Summary: M-21's scars USED to be there…
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: M-21's scars _used_ to be there…

Set after season three or something.

Another collection post, haha. Only two parts for the moment and neither of them are connected to each other.

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><p><strong>Scars<br>**

By Dark Ice Dragon

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><p>The first thing M-21 noticed when he regained consciousness was a sharp tang of citrus filling his nose. The next thing M-21 was aware of was Tao looking him over when he opened his eyes, peeled orange segments in his hand, leaning back in a chair on two legs. No-one else was in the room.<p>

"Takeo's already up," Tao said, nodding towards the rumpled empty bed. Ah, that was good. As far as M-21 knew, Takeo had been the only other person as injured as he was at the end of the fight.

Tao was still studying him and M-21 sighed as he sat up. "What?"

"I remember you having more scars," Tao said, indicating all of M-21 with a sweep of his hand. He dropped one of the segments with that action and dived after it with a yelp, the legs of the chair hitting the carpet with a thud. Tao got to it before it hit the ground, his arm lifted triumphantly as he lay on his back.

The carpet safe from getting dirtied, M-21 looked down, and…Huh. His torso was devoid of any marks, any other reminders of his time at the Union. He ran a hand over himself, just in case it only looked clear, but his fingers didn't find anything.

"I used to…" His healing ability must have gotten rid of them. M-21 didn't spend a lot of time looking at his body in general, changing his clothes when needed; the scars could have disappeared for a while and he hadn't noticed.

"Hm." Tao threw the captured segment into his own mouth, getting back into his chair. "I'm surprised the scar on your face hasn't gone yet."

M-21 reached up and touched his lip, finding the familiar dip. He didn't drop his hand, touching the scar over and over, making sure it was there, that it hadn't changed. It felt the same, not smaller in any way.

Was the same thing going to happen to that one? Would he wake up one day and it would be gone?

"It should be fine," Tao said, clapping him on the shoulder. "If it was going to disappear, it would have already."

…Yeah, Tao was right. He didn't have to worry. The scar was shallower and thinner than the others – it should have been one of the first to go, not the last.

"C'mon," Tao said, offering him his last segment, "you need to eat."

"All right." M-21 took it but paused before eating it. "Thanks…"

Tao reached over and poked his wrist. "It's just an orange segment, M; I'm not going to die without it."

That wasn't what he was thanking him for, and by the way Tao had ducked his head, hiding his eyes and showing only a small smile curving his lips, Tao knew it.

"Fine," M-21 said, a smile also pulling on his lips as he ate it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary**: M-21's scars _used_ to be there…

Set after season one.

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><p><strong>Scars<br>**

By Dark Ice Dragon

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><p>M-21's reflection was different. He stared, leaning in, in case it was a trick of light, something he was missing. But nothing changed, not when he rubbed the side of his mouth either.<p>

His scar was gone.

As was the rest of the collection over his body, like he'd never been in a fight, like he'd gone back in time when he'd first stepped out of the tube.

M-21 wasn't sure how he felt about it; the scar at his mouth had been there the first time he had looked at a mirror – it had always been there, a constant reminder of what had happened at the Union. He didn't know if he'd gotten it from the experiments or if it had been something from his previous life. If it was something from his previous life, it was something he'd wanted to keep, one of the last few clues he had of finding out who he used to be.

He didn't have that option anymore.

And as much as he hated the Union and his time there, he had still made precious memories and comrades. They had shaped him, his other scars had been part of that, and if he hadn't been there, he wouldn't have found his way to the household either.

But in the very least, he still had his-

M-21 stared at his upturned wrist, the black lines that for years had been strong and clear were now faded, the edges blurring into his skin. His tattoo as well?

He hissed, clenching his hand. His tattoo was a brand, something to dehumanise him to only a number but it was the only connection he had _left_ to the rest of the M-series.

His scars were gone, his tattoo was disappearing and it wasn't like he had pictures to remember his comrades by. The swath of emptiness of his time before the Union was proof his own memories weren't reliable so what would happen when his tattoo faded completely…?

Nothing, he could admit. Life carried on like always and he knew it. His life wouldn't stop because his tattoo was gone.

Even though he knew that, it still felt like an inevitable loss. 

xOx

"Is there something wrong?"

M-21 blinked at Frankenstein in the corridor and then shook his head. "No." Nothing Frankenstein could help with.

Except Frankenstein's gaze flicked down, to where M-21 was rubbing the tattoo and shit, he was being obvious. He dropped his hands. "It's nothing." It would be that eventually.

Frankenstein didn't leave, and while his eyes didn't move away from his face, M-21 knew exactly where Frankenstein's attention was even though he'd turned his wrist away. "I could help-"

"No." He didn't want it gone - he wanted the _opposite_ of that.

This time, Frankenstein stopped and M-21 bristled, waiting for what Frankenstein was going to say.

"I was going to ask if you wished for me to touch it up," Frankenstein said, his tone still mild.

M-21 stiffened, baring his teeth. "You want to _what_?"

"Touch it – ah." Frankenstein shook his head. "I can return your tattoo to its former clarity; that was all I was meaning."

That's-? M-21's temper fizzled out as Frankenstein spoke, though he still considered him suspiciously. It could be a lie and M-21 pursed his lips. "I'll think about it." He didn't want to jump into something without making sure first.

"Very well," Frankenstein said with short nod, and he started walking again, leaving M-21 alone in the corridor.

That was it? Frankenstein wasn't going to try to convince him that it was something that he needed, or order him to have it done whether he wanted it or not?

It took M-21 a few seconds to move, retreating back to his room to regroup. 

xOx

M-21's phone could connect to the internet and it confirmed what Frankenstein had said, what he'd called it.

Frankenstein hadn't talked about it to him again either even though it had been several days since the offer; there was no pressure to do it, but M-21 wasn't sure if it was his own imagination or if his tattoo was fading by the day. He'd made a sketch of it on a piece of paper he'd found at the school just in case, knowing each line by heart. The lines weren't straight, not a perfect representation and it had taken him four attempts before he was satisfied with it being something he could show Frankenstein.

It would be better if Frankenstein used the actual tattoo as a guide.

He kept it anyway, flexing his hand to make sure he didn't crumple the piece of paper in his grip and ruin the work he'd done as he went down into the lab. "Frankenstein?"

"Ah?" There were machines everywhere, and Frankenstein walked out from behind one like he'd been hiding there. "Yes?"

"I…" The paper rustled as M-21 hissed through his teeth. "I want my tattoo to be touched up."

Frankenstein nodded, turning away. "It'll take me a few minutes to set up, but the procedure won't take long either."

…Frankenstein hadn't been prepared for his answer? He hadn't had any expectations?

It seemed like it, the way Frankenstein puttered about, taking items out of drawers and setting them on trays.

"If you would just sit here-" Frankenstein wheeled out a chair, patting the armrest and M-21 made his way over, setting the piece of paper down drawing up on the table beside it.

Frankenstein glanced at it for a second and then nodded, going back to collecting what he needed.

Sitting down, M-21's nose twitched at the scent of disinfectant, eyeing the rest of the equipment.

"Now, this shouldn't hurt much," Frankenstein said as he approached, setting down what looked like the last appliance. "But tell me if it does."

M-21 huffed. Right, like he would admit that. 

xOx

Frankenstein had told the truth: it didn't take long, and it hadn't hurt that much either.

"How was it?" Frankenstein asked, leaning back after bandaging the tattoo.

"…Good," M-21 said, glad the black lines were in stark contrast to his skin again, looking exactly how he remembered it.

Frankenstein just smiled and handed him a piece of paper and a few bottles. "To make sure it lasts as long as it can, follow these instructions, though considering your circumstances, I can continue touching it up for as long as you want it."

M-21 scanned over it – it was an in depth list, stating what to do or not do, when to do it, and why each step was important. "All right."

He left the laboratory, committing them to memory. It hadn't been that bad to do.

If that's how Frankenstein did it, then maybe he could ask if Frankenstein could tattoo his lip scar as well…?

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><p>Frankenstein doesn't ask about the face scar so not to draw attention, and two, in case M-21 hadn't had it for that long anyway.<p>

What if M-24 wanted to take selfies with M-21 though. And he refused. Haha… *bricked*


End file.
